


Shades of Blue

by creekblues



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:52:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creekblues/pseuds/creekblues
Summary: Harry never much cared for the color blue, yet it always seemed to spill into the edges of his life.





	Shades of Blue

Harry Hook was man of many talents, and he rose above all else when it came to sword-fighting, navigation, and steering the haul of a ship (stolen or otherwise).

Nevertheless, there was one thing he couldn’t do.

Harry Hook was a man who always got what he wanted, his crew falling to his feet alongside Captain Uma as he sneered, his not-so-severed hand clutching a steel-sharp hook. Together, with him as the noble first-mate, they had the tides bound by their blood.

Barking listless demands was a fairly common occurrence as well. Whether this task be something as menial as swabbing the deck or a quick fuck when nights in the quarters got too lonely. Now, Harry didn’t normally feel emotions akin to shame, even guilt; but some strong form of it thrashed itself upon him whenever he twisted off his faux-hook. To finally have a taste of something other than the sharp flash of memory of his father’s nails sunken deep into his skin, or the subtle scent of whiskey still protruding his senses. Harry knows not to think too hard for too long; his father was nothing more than the shadow of a monster. Yet in the dark he struggles, lungs crumbling and eyes blurry and by _Poseidon_ how his heart _aches_ to forget.

Into the night, where the only sounds that can be heard is of the shifting sea. But in the back of his mind, he knows she listens.

He awakens abruptly one morning, withered eyes cloudy and crusted. Skin chilled and bones tense.  His throat is dry and wrecked, the weight of a million anvils resting upon his chest.

There is an unsettling calm before the storm brewing inside him sets in.

Knowing there was one thing he couldn’t have.

This ‘thing’ being a tall, gorgeous boy with bright blue eyes who have never once witnessed the treacherous darkness. Pale skin, free of deep-set scars and broken veins. A heart of gold, much like a fairytale. Of course, Harry knows his beloved is more than a fairytale—and should the likes of Poseiden strike him down before he lets go of this man he knows would never spare him more than a glance his way. He’s never earned more than a smile as he watched what was Auradon’s precious jewel give an anxious wave to the crowd of followers at a widespread event. And even so, this small gesture did not belong to him.  He melts at the TV screen from the chip shop, but his face is outwardly hard and jeering.

Rising to a burden of love was one thing, but with a king? The pirate boy’s blackened eyes move from his torso, shirt tattered and torn—to his pants, the raggedness and stains weakly hidden by layers of buckles. Polished off by metal belts that felt more like chains dragging around his waist. Shoes heavy but worn, footsteps fallen deaf to his own ears. To his crew, a warning for all those who stand before him. Confidence was what got him through his years on the Isle, but a violent force in his heart told him that he could never be worth the love of royalty.

 _“Pirates don’t **fall in love** ,”_ he remembers his father muttering in such dispirit, before gripping tightly to his arm. _“You best listen to me, boy. The only thing a pirate should love is the vast sea, for she won’t leave ya.”_

Harry’s hands are trembling now, the blood rushing to his head and its like lightning is protruding through his stomach, down his spine. He should have known better—a voice shrieks in his ear—rough from years of saltwater and tobacco. Yes, he should have. And he should have run then. Because he can almost taste the greasy metal of his father’s pistol pressed against his lips, and the slight click of the revolver. Harry was used to this—he’d seen death too much, too often, that it was no longer a distant dream.

His father turns swiftly on his heel, wild eyes whispering a warning louder than a siren, _“But if she drags ya in, well… You’re one of the lucky_ _ones.”_

The estranged Hook son tries not to let his sigh of relief come too audible, though his father knows any child of a villain is grateful of another day they can still swallow corrupted air into their lungs. Thick, somber clouds that loomed above were the only innocent witnesses to a generation worth of sickening cruelty; torture beyond compare. Though no one on the Isle dare spill a word, their entire beings lust for the sunlight.

It was moments like these that Harry’s infatuation with the King receded and he wishes he could drown the _rich, privileged_ Auradon boy and drag him down under. A wicked fantasy, to see his blood floating atop the water once the killer sharks got him, bones thoroughly chewed and remains falling to the depths of the ocean floor.

He thinks these thoughts and says these words laced with venom and malice; he’s lived too long to feel anything more than anger. Yet he still finds himself closing his eyes and seeing endless shades of blue. The color of the Royal Family, of the ocean that separated _us_ from _them_ , and the eyes of a boy who never allowed himself to see the worst in anyone.


End file.
